A long while back, I IM'd some woman on Jdate. I remember our conversation not only because it was enraging, but because that IM session was one of maybe ten I'd had during my entire Jdate career. And ten is probably being generous - unless getting declined counts as having an IM session with a woman, in which case I've had many more. But what triggered my memory of the instant messaging session in question was having almost the exact same conversation with the same woman on the phone last night.
I'd gotten this woman's number from a friend who had gotten the number from her friend who had apparently found the number scribbled on a piece of toilet paper that got stuck to the bottom of her shoe while she was peeing on the seat in a Starbucks bathroom. I can think of no other logical explanation since that appears to be how much thought was put into this set-up by the parties involved.
Though the IM exchange with this woman was at least two years ago, I was almost immediately overcome by a feeling of deja Jdate.
"So where in the city did you grow up?" she asked.
"Brooklyn," I said.
"Brooklyn isn't the city," she said, and I knew right then by her condescending, "You're Bridge and Tunnel trash and I'm not" tone that I'd spoken to this shithead once before. I quickly ran to my computer and opened the email my friend sent me containing this woman's picture. I knew that Jewish nose looked familiar.
"It's a borough of New York City," I responded, wondering why I was again defending myself to this elitist schmuck - only now I was speaking the words instead of typing them angrily on my keyboard.
"Technically, I suppose. But I don't consider Brooklyn 'The City.'"
"Not technically. It's an actual borough. I know. I grew up there."
"You know what I mean. It's not Manhattan."
"That's why they call it Brooklyn. So I take it you grew up in Manhattan," I said, pretending we'd never spoken before.
"Born and bred," she said proudly.
"Uh huh. So do you only date guys who grew up in Manhattan?" I asked, hoping she'd say yes and hang up on me.
"No, but there's something to be said for native Manhattanites."
Like what? You're all obnoxious douchebags with big noses who given your ages and extremely average looks shouldn't be so fucking picky?... Oh wait, that's just you!
"I actually enjoyed growing up in Brooklyn. Some of my fondest memories are from that time in my life. Brooklyn was great," I said before I told myself to stop trying to prove to her that I'm worthy of her attention.
"Yeah, well, do you have any other pictures you can send me?" she asked, putting to rest any doubt that this was the same woman from Jdate. I remember her asking me the same thing over two years ago. "I have a certain type of look that I like. Do you have any pictures where I can see you more clearly? "
Sure. And do you have any pictures in which your face doesn't look like it has a raging hard-on? YOU have a certain look you're into? So do I, and the "before" model in a rhinoplasty ad ain't it. Why didn't your fancy Manhattan daddy take you to a fancy Manhattan plastic surgeon when you were a teenager, or why didn't he at least get you Photoshop lessons? These were all things I wish I had typed to her over two years ago and now I was wishing I had the balls to say to her on the phone.
Instead, I asked: "Are you on Jdate?"
"Yeah, are you? Do you have other pictures on there?"
"No, you're not on Jdate, or no you don't have other pictures on there?"
No, I don't want to talk to you anymore or ever again.